This handsome face is why I wake up in the morning and begrudgingly drag myself to work. He’s my best friend and the reason I keep breathing. I’ve thought many times about going in search of Jason but I can’t just yet because this face depends on me. He’s not just my dog Klaus, he is my entire universe if that isn’t already apparent. He’s got big brown expressive eyes and long eyelashes just like Jason, and I study them every night before I go to bed and wonder if maybe he’s my connection to whatever is beyond this life. I’m an atheist but it is hard to believe that Jason’s energy just ceased to be when he died…there was far too much spirit glowing inside his 6’1″ slender frame to just disappear or be reduced to ashes inside a wooden tomb.
Jason and I adopted Klaus right after we got married. He was intended to be a foster dog but I “foster failed” and cried and pleaded with Jason to keep him. I just knew he was supposed to be with me and now I know why.
I eat crappy cheap stuff so Klaus can eat the Beluga Caviar of pet food and I take him to doggy daycare so he isn’t alone while I’m at work (but really because I can watch him play on the webcams as a happy distraction). I leave work promptly at 5pm because I can’t wait to feel his silky ears and kiss his whiskery snout. His bottom lip sticks out and he always has a pouty expression unless he has a tennis ball or frisbee in his mouth. Sometimes he’s so tired he falls asleep in the car and I turn the music off so I can hear him snore instead.
He lets me curl myself around him at night and wet his fur with my tears. This is his way of listening and his way of telling me to keep trudging forward despite my overwhelming desire to wave the white flag. To anyone who has ever doubted the unconditional and therapeutic love of a pet, stop doubting. He saves me. Every single day he saves me.
Before Jason died I couldn’t even stomach the idea of a world without him and yet I’m still here because of Klaus. Thank you Jason for letting me be a foster failure and leaving a nightlight for me when you left.